


Crossing Borders

by ButtersMeUp



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Batjokes, Blow Jobs, Closet Sex, Identity Kink, Identity Porn, M/M, New 52, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Power Dynamics, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-31
Updated: 2016-07-31
Packaged: 2018-07-28 10:19:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7636393
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ButtersMeUp/pseuds/ButtersMeUp
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was the smallest of expressions, the tiniest of cracks in the man’s otherwise squeaky clean persona. His finger brushed Bruce’s and his smile stretched back, back, back, and Bruce couldn't put his finger on why but it sent waves of lightning through his belly. </p><p>Eric Border was more dangerous than he'd given him credit for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crossing Borders

**Author's Note:**

> Come one, come all to PBJ's first ever porn! *cheers abound*
> 
> I feel (almost) comfortable not putting a spoiler tag since the New 52 arc is over, but uhhh. Secret identity spoiler warning anyway, I guess?
> 
> DISCLAIMER: I lifted two lines from the Endgame arc of New 52 Batman. I do not own these or the characters being borrowed here. I am but a humble fanwriter, destitute and with too much free time on my hands.

Eric Border kissed like a man gasping for air. He pushed deeper and deeper into Bruce’s space as they moved against each other, hands gripping at Bruce’s arms and chapped lips sliding up his jawline. Bruce had a good few inches on the man, but pressed up against the shelves in a makeshift Arkham Manor janitor’s closet, he felt dwarfed by the man’s sheer hunger.

He’d never expected this, when he first locked eyes with the man from under his cowl. Even when Batman was bound at the wrists, ready to test Arkham’s defences from the inside out, the plain-looking orderly looked harmless at best, and his green eyes mirrored those of every other member of the Arkham staff: excited, terrified, curious.

He’d only seen him in snatches after that, at least under cover of darkness. No, the next time they would meet, he was walking through Arkham’s front doors with his hands unbound and his face unmasked, Bruce Wayne’s charming half-smile plastered over his mouth. It was only fair for Bruce to get a tour of the place, having surrendered half of his home to house the project, and it was Mr. Border who got the honour.

Under the harsh fluorescent lights of the awake hours, the man had seemed even smaller. His hair was a flat grey-brown, his eyes half-lidded and bored-looking. His lightly hunched posture made him seem even more unthreatening than he did in the twilight. They had chatted, and Bruce had been surprised to hear the overtly _white-knight_ message that the small man seemed to have committed to. He suspected it was only lip-service, like with many of the staff he’d encountered in these places, but sometimes the concerned cant of the man’s brow managed to convince him otherwise.

Bruce became moderately acquainted with the timid orderly over the next few months, seeming to always find him on-shift when he visited the manor for check-ins. He appeared to awaken at night, his true strength only shining through when the sun went down and the corridors glowed with tempered fluorescents; when he was running about the asylum beneath Batman’s wings.

Nonetheless, he was ready to dismiss Eric Border as benign-but-useful at best and harmlessly deluded at worst. Until one evening, when day was slipping into night and Eric was passing him a cup of drip coffee in the orderlies’ break-room; the man smiled in such a way that made Bruce’s stomach turn.

It was the smallest of expressions, the tiniest of cracks in the man’s otherwise squeaky clean persona. His finger brushed Bruce’s as the plastic cup passed between them, and as his green eyes peered up through thin lashes, the corner of Eric’s mouth sliced up in a split-second, dangerous smile. It was gone in moments, broken by Bruce’s fingers fumbling with the cup, almost dropping it, but it spoke to something dark hidden behind the man’s pleasantness, something that seemed so incredibly familiar to Bruce, but also strangely foreign. He couldn’t put his finger on it, but he recognised the tiny twinge of excitement it incited deep in his belly.

So when the orderly paused in front of the janitor’s closet a few minutes later, fingers caressing the dull metal of the handle, eyes sweeping over Bruce and sizing him up from his head to his toes, Bruce found himself nodding. He found himself allowing the smaller man to wrap one thin hand around his wrist, pulling him into the dark nook and pushing the door gently shut behind them.

Within seconds Eric had slammed him up against some shelving, fingers pressing into his skin and tongue invading his mouth. There was something insidious about the way Eric’s tongue slid against Bruce’s; in the way he pressed their chests flush together, hearts pounding in opposite beats through fabric.

Overcoming his initial shock, Bruce placed a hand on the small of Eric’s back, pulling him in even closer. He was suddenly aware of the softness of the man’s stubble-less face, the feel of his long nose digging into Bruce’s cheek. He wrapped his other hand around the nape of Eric’s neck and smashed their mouths together even more roughly, ignoring the jarring pain of their teeth clacking against each other.

He was just falling into the orderly’s rhythm when the man interrupted it, slipping a cold hand up under his shirt and caressing Bruce’s exposed hip bone. He choked down a moan as the fingers drew light patterns up and down his side, the man’s other hand reaching down to unpick the button on Bruce’s trousers.

And he let him. He allowed thin fingers to pop the button, undo the zip, and then they were stroking Bruce through his underwear, rolling the head of his cock between their tips.

He groaned again into the kiss, and the hand grew bolder. Soon, he could feel his underwear being stretched around a hand and feather-light touches at his base, tracing up and down his hardening length as Eric chuckled into his mouth.

Bruce hooked a finger into the waistband of Eric’s uniform trousers, pulling him in so their hips were flush. He felt the hard press of Eric’s cock against his thigh, and placed both hands on the smaller man’s ass. They ground against each other, Eric’s hand still buried in Bruce’s pants, and Bruce relished the sound of the orderly’s heavy breathing as he thrust against Bruce’s leg.

But suddenly, Eric was gone, his mouth disappearing from Bruce’s and his hands leaving his skin. He opened his eyes, just in time to catch the orderly’s smile before the man dropped to his knees before him, green eyes focused on Bruce’s open trousers.

He’d barely registered what was about to happen when the other man pressed his lips against the head of Bruce’s cock. The shock was instant, Bruce unable to stop the tiny gasp that escaped his mouth at the feeling. Eric wasted no time, dragging his lips down the length of it, pulling back up with his tongue centred in on the vein as Bruce exhaled sharply.

Bruce gained enough control to look down at the man now bobbing in and out, enveloping his cock in warm heat and exposing it to the cold air of the closet in tandem. He buried his hands in the orderly’s hair, guiding the rhythm ever so slightly, his hips rocking back and forth as much as he dared. But when Bruce lost control for a moment, plunging deep in the other man’s mouth, Eric just chuckled slightly around him, and he felt the vibrations travel straight to his gut.

He was close already, embarrassingly so, and he pulled the other man’s hair a little tighter. Getting the hint, the orderly’s mouth suddenly tightened around him, squeezing, vice-like as he travelled up and down its length. Bruce felt his release build inside him, his cock growing impossibly harder and hotter as the man sucked him, and then Eric was sinking down low, enveloping the entirety of Bruce’s cock in his mouth as Bruce thrust forward, and he came down the orderly’s throat.

It was as if they were one being for a few moments, both breathing heavily and dripping with sweat, and then Eric was back at Bruce’s level, leaving his softening cock to dry in the chilly Arkham air. The orderly kissed him, and Bruce could taste himself, mixed into the _wetness_ that was Eric’s mouth. A wetness befitting a starving man, all desire and greed. When Eric mashed their mouths together, his green eyes engulfed Bruce with their sheer _want_.

But then he pulled away, regarding Bruce calmly. There was a question in those eyes, but a challenging one, and Bruce knew what was being demanded of him. A war waged inside him, his body remembering the countless times he’d felt a pretty mouth descend upon him in closets and hiding places just like this one, but his mind trembling, remembering that never, not even once in Bruce’s life, had his own lips wrapped around someone else’s length. Never had he allowed someone to snake _their_ fingers into _his_ hair, stroke _his_ jaw in encouragement.

But he found himself dropping slowly to his knees, staring up at the orderly through his lashes. The man’s green eyes were hungry again, the corner of his mouth quivering into a smile. How could this tiny, timid man seem so _dangerous_? How could he light up Bruce’s insides like this?

He didn’t know, but he did know that there was nothing that could stop him from drawing down the zip on the orderly’s trousers once he started. The white uniform cloth pushed aside, Bruce pulled down the clean, white cotton of Eric’s underwear, already moist with precum, and allowed the man’s cock to jump free of its bindings. It was smaller than Bruce’s, but flushed red with heat, jutting out in a proud arc right in front of Bruce's nose. He felt his own mouth begin to water.

His gaze flicked up to Eric’s once more, and found the green pair already watching him, drinking in the sight of him on his knees in the dark. Bruce’s cheeks flushed. Half to hide them and half out of a desire to, Bruce descended upon the other man’s cock, swallowing the head and pushing down as far as his mouth allowed. He gagged slightly as the tip brushed against the back of his mouth, but held himself there, feeling the appendage grow wet and slick with his own saliva as he did so. The man above him just breathed, but when the moment of motionlessness stretched, he felt a hand press along his scalp.

 _Move_ , it said, and Bruce complied. He pulled away slowly, his mouth glued to Eric’s skin, and tried to think of what felt good for _him_. How had the others done this, all those times before? _Tongue_. Bruce experimented, drawing his tongue sharply up the underside as he pulled away, and earned a satisfied noise in reply. Pushing in again, he curled his tongue around Eric, flicking his tongue out in patterns as he settled into a rhythm. The orderly hummed in appreciation, massaging Bruce’s scalp with his fingers, matching Bruce’s rhythm.

Bruce had never felt this before, powerless and powerful all at once. He’d done similar favours for women, of course, but this was different. There were no soft thighs wrapped around his head, no body squirming defenceless beneath him. Eric’s hands were wrapped tightly in Bruce’s hair, _controlling_ the push and pull of Bruce’s mouth while Bruce accidentally grazed his teeth against the man’s sensitive skin. He froze when that happened for a second time, but the man above him only chuckled, his fingers kneading Bruce’s skull. _It’s alright, keep going_.

And Bruce did, bobbing in and out along Eric’s length as he settled into a rhythm, aided by the orderly’s fingertips and the gentle push of his narrow hips. Even when coarse hair tickled his nose, even as his jaw began to ache from the use, Bruce revelled in his position, excited by every tiny gasp of air and every lascivious moan that dropped from the orderly’s open mouth.

He didn’t look up, too focused on his task, but when Eric’s thin fingers slid down to cup the back of Bruce’s head, urging him forward just a little more roughly, Bruce realised that the other man was close. He could taste his precum, flowing thicker now, mixing with Bruce’s own saliva as he impaled himself on the man’s cock, almost feeling dizzy as he picked up the pace.

Eric was rocking harder now, tiny jabs of his hips turning into substantial thrusts, the heat growing within Bruce’s mouth as he allowed the other man to set the pace. As Eric thrust inside him, Bruce focused instead on tightening his mouth around the orderly’s cock, as had been done for him only minutes before.

Suddenly, Eric was pulling him close, spilling himself into Bruce’s tightly clasped mouth and letting out a choked, stuttering groan. His fingernails dug into Bruce’s scalp as he curled over him. Bruce could feel his hot breath shaking out over the back of his neck, tickling his hair, and the man’s nose pressing gently against the fabric of his suit between his shoulder blades.

They were silent, Eric’s fingers still pressing into his scalp as Bruce felt his heartbeat finally begin to slow. He felt drained, and bone tired, as if pieces of himself had been sucked away along with his orgasm. It wasn’t an overly unpleasant feeling though. Even as the cage of Eric Border’s skinny forearms around his face evoked the dark creep of powerlessness, Bruce also felt the enticing call of the blank, that deep, dark crevasse that promised he’d never again need to think or worry.

Kneeling before this man, his head gripped tightly in Eric’s fingers and his forehead resting on the other man’s belly, Bruce felt the dangerous allure of irresponsibility. It was swallowing him, drawing him down, down, down…

But then those fingers left him, were instead wrapping around his biceps, pulling him to his feet again in the tiny, dark closet.

Eric looked up at him, green eyes drinking him in, and Bruce thought he could see a different emotion in each eye. On the left, the cautious worry of the orderly, and on the right, the lazy, satiated warmth of… someone else.

Bruce blinked, as if in a daze, but he filtered back in when he noticed the other man’s lips moving.

“…should get you back to your half of the manor. Can’t be keeping one of the most important men in Gotham under lock and key.”

Bruce blinked as Eric’s hands left him. The man was tucking himself back into his standard-issue trousers, and Bruce noticed with a hard blush that he was also still exposed. He quickly followed suit.

He looked down at his watch. “I… I have a date. Dinner. I should be going.” The two of them were still standing close, chests flush in the tiny closet.

The orderly smiled, a tiny curve of the mouth this time, nothing like the slicing grin from earlier. “Wouldn’t want to keep her waiting.” He gestured to the door. “I’ll escort you if you like.”

Bruce floundered, hand pushing ineffectually at the doorknob behind his back. Finally feeling it give under his grasp, he creaked it open, peeking surreptitiously into the hallway. Finding it empty, he exited the closet, holding the door open for the smaller man to follow.

“…I think I can find my own way back,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a trademark Bruce Wayne smile. “I’ve kept you from your rounds long enough.”

Eric smiled again, head bobbing. “Pleasure to see you, Mr. Wayne. Hope you’ll visit again soon.”

Raising his hand in goodbye, Eric Border tiptoed down the hallway, leaving Bruce alone, the cold chill of Arkham beginning to seep back into him.

He strode through the asylum in the other direction, still feeling the pull of the closet, the tug of unthinking. Arkham was more dangerous than he’d given it credit for. _Eric_ was more dangerous than he’d given him credit for.

…Later, seated across from a pretty girl in an expensive restaurant, every glide of her stocking-clad foot against his leg felt like the slide of Eric’s fingers against his scalp; every red-lipped smile was Eric’s dangerous smirk.

And when they fell into bed together, a mess of sluggish, drunken limbs and long, brown hair, the memory of that horrifying, exciting smile invaded his vision, swimming behind his eyelids. He ripped her dress, by accident. And when they came together, all Bruce could hear over the rush of blood in his ears was the quiet, controlled gasp of Eric Border’s climax.

He avoided Arkham after that. Ignored the feel of its cold fingers drawing him in, the beckoning whisper of the wind as it passed across the grounds. It had sunk its claws in deep, but he tore himself away from it each time regardless.

He thought the old Arkham would be different; that he would be able to fight off the ice and the echoes of insane laughter, the whispers and memories that told him that he belonged there.

But then the iron door of the Joker’s old cell clanged shut behind him and the gas spewed out around his feet, and he felt icy cold dread drip down to the floor of his stomach.

Eric was there, against all odds. How had he not heard the awkward orderly coming?

“…You really don’t recognise me, do you?”

And then the powder was brushed away, white cloth rasping at the skin to reveal even whiter porcelain beneath, and the ice in Bruce’s stomach crystallised. He strained against the clutching iron bars, using anything at hand to stay afloat in the still green pools of chemical fluid that were Eric’s doleful eyes.

It couldn’t be.

Eric’s lips pulled back into the same smile that had set Bruce Wayne’s nerves on fire; back even further into a smile that had haunted Bruce’s dreams and nightmares for years; back so far that it seemed his skin might crack.

The smile drew closer to Bruce, pulling him into its orbit and filling his vision. Fear and excitement warred in his belly like oil and water, always touching, but never quite coming together. And then the smile spoke.

“So, _Bats_ , you miss me?”

**Author's Note:**

> I freely admit that I had no idea how to end this. Any advice/critique on how to end pornfic will be much appreciated. Peace out.
> 
> And someone was inspired to draw fanart! Check it out [here](http://wolffang91.tumblr.com/post/149088168763/eric-borderjokerbruce-wayne-eric-border-is-the), their art is amazing!


End file.
